Hanging Christmas lights with Macy. It’s a bit chilly, but we are having a lots of fun. Seeing her joyfully examining the twinkling display, my mind keeps showing this strange, remote scene of a man sitting on a bench in an airport hall, waiting to be allowed to go home.

Tom Hanks in "The Terminal"

No, It’s not Tom Hanks in “The Terminal” floating in the virtual screen, though this one is more dramatic yet with profound simplicity. To better tell the story, I’ll just use the report by John M. Glionna and Catherine Makino from the Los Angeles Times:

He is a man caught between two countries, a political protester who has stubbornly steeled himself inside the sterile purgatory of Tokyo’s Narita International Airport.
 
Each day, Feng Zhenghu sits on a bench in front of the Japanese customs booths, calmly looking on as tens of thousands of arriving passengers pass him by, resigning himself to residence in a diplomatic no-man’s land.

He refuses to pass through government customs because that would mean entering Japan – something Feng has decided he simply will not do. He wants to go home to China.

Eight times since June, the 55-year-old activist has been rebuffed by Chinese officials in attempts to reenter his homeland.

On four occasions, airlines in Japan didn’t allow him to board. On four others, he got as far as Shanghai’s Pudong International Airport before being dispatched back to Tokyo.

During the last go-round Nov. 2, a defiant Feng drew the line: Arriving back at Narita, he refused to enter the country.

Feng, an economist turned human rights author and blogger, was sentenced in 2000 to three years in a Chinese prison for writing a book that he said criticized Chinese regulations against foreign company investment.

He also believes a speech he once gave criticizing the 1989 Tiananmen Square crackdown is being held against him.

Still, he says, officials cannot banish him on mere pretense. Speaking on his cellphone recently, Feng said he would prefer to languish in a Chinese jail than live as a free man in Japan or anywhere else.

Although he is angry at his government, Feng misses his homeland – his family, friends, the feel of the place he has spent most of his life.

“I just want to go home,’’ he told a reporter in a face-to-face interview, tears welling in his eyes as he discussed his desire to return to China. “I’m Chinese. Why can’t I go home? I didn’t do anything illegal. I just wrote a book that didn’t meet with the regulations of the Chinese government.’’

Feng’s plight is reminiscent of the Tom Hanks character in Steven Spielberg’s 2004 film, “The Terminal.’’ But this unlikely sojourner has no access to food courts or hot showers.

He has kept a lonely vigil at the south arrival wing of Narita’s hyper-busy Terminal One. Many workers and travelers don’t even know he’s there, staging a protest in a nation where, traditionally, few people question authority.

Feng inside Narita Airport

Now you get the picture. You must be wondering, just as I have been wondering ever since I heard the story 3 weeks ago, how is this possibly happening in real life?

I don’t know Mr. Feng. I could only imagine how devastated his loved ones at home mus be, and how much Feng wants to be with his son or daughter.

As the World Human Rights Day is approaching, the mere fact that someone does not even have the bare right to return his own home is a disgrace to the entire mankind. 

All Mr. Feng just wants is to go home so he too could hang up Christmas lights with his kid!

My first Thanksgiving dinner was also my first dinner with an American family. I was quite adventurous when it came to food. In the very first few months in Madison, I had already tried burger, pizza, taco, french fries, spaghetti, you name it. But, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie? Those were all eye opening (and mouth watering) . I got to admit that I immediately fell in love with the Thanksgiving feast. 

Being the first real interaction with a local family, I was eager to make a decent conversation with them in my broken English. It was a nice family. A middle aged couple with 2 lovely kids, Jake and Kelly, 7 and 9, respectively. They were curious about me as much as I was about them. The couple were both working for the state at the time. They had a farm north of Madison (I did visit their farm later). They told me where and how the Thanksgiving tradition came from, and said, among another things, they were very grateful. 

I stopped them there and asked the meaning of the word grateful. It took some struggling for them to explain. It finally registered. I quickly searched my Chinese vocabulary bank to try to find an equivalent, but realized there was not an expression in my native language that would precisely describe it. 

The dinner was fabulous, the experience was invaluable. And more than anything else, I learned a new expression: be grateful! 

You see, being grateful is not just a simple reaction to some occurrence. Being grateful is an attitude towards life. It can be just the missing link between tribulation and happiness, between agony and peace, between anxiety and content. 

Furthermore, as research indicates, being grateful is good for one’s health. Studies by the Research on Unlimited Love (IRUL) founded by Dr. Stephen Post revealed that, Gratitude 

Defends – Just 15 minutes a day focusing on the things you’re grateful for will significantly increase your body’s natural antibodies. 

Sharpens – Naturally grateful people are more focused mentally and measurably less vulnerable to clinical depression. 

Calms – A grateful state of mind induces a physiological state called resonance that’s associated with healthier blood pressure and heart rate. 

Strengthens – Caring for others is draining. But grateful caregivers are healthier and more capable than less grateful ones. 

Heals – Recipients of donated organs who have the most grateful attitudes heal faster.

On this thankful Thanksgiving holiday, we ought to be grateful for the fact that we are born to this world, the fact that we are living in this land of freedom and opportunity, the fact that each of us is uniquely created with a sense of purpose – the Gift Of Diversity. 

I am grateful.

This is Bob’s favorite phrase. Bob is very proud of his “patterned invention”.  What does it mean? You ask.

The acronym stands for

Total Harmony of Enlightenment

Thank You God Every Race

Together Everyone Achieves More

Bob Hall is a dear friend. Our relationship started as business partners dates back to the mid 90s. But soon we discovered that the foundation for our long lasting friendship is our endured respect for each other, and expanded respect to all human beings.

Bob has a non-restrained tendency of helping others. He’s like a rescuer to many failing businesses. They call him when they are in trouble, offer him such titles as COO, CEO, or whatsoever. His softness in his heart prevents him from saying No, even though he knows often times those glorious titles have no financial substance to himself. “Screw them,” he complained to me, “I’m not going to offer FREE services anymore!” Then the next thing I notice is that the phone rings, and he is saying “OK, I’ll see what I can do.”

Many businesses Bob helped taking off are still flying high. His failure of locking up a lucrative package with any of them leaves him with no equity for his contribution. I told him, jokingly, “You are a bad business man.” “I am good to them,” he confessed.

But, it really hasn’t bothered him that much, because there is something much more important than being successful in personal business, something occupies a great deal of the capacity in his daily life, that is the belief embedded in the concept of The TYGER TEAM: All members of the human family are with “the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights”.

Alright, one might argue there is nothing new to this (however, you ought to admit the acronym is pretty clever). It was certainly implied in the Declaration of Independence when Thomas Jefferson wrote down “All men are created equal”.

I can even trace back to a dialog recorded in one of the academic collection taught in the ancient Confucius schools. It is stated in the Classic of Rites《礼记·礼运·大道之行也》that

 The ultimate universal principle revolves around the truth that all men under heaven are created equal.

Thomas Jefferson

But, it took “four score and seven years” and the extraordinary leadership of Abraham Lincoln to end slavery. It took almost 2 centuries of generations of civil rights movement to end racial segregation. The “I Have a Dream” address delivered by Dr. Martin Luther King marked the brightest spotlight in this journey.

The vision and relentless struggle the great men and women in America demonstrated in defending human rights has inspired the entire world. Now even in the most repressive regions the outcries for human rights, justice, and equality are loud and clear. These values are no longer just the American values. They are UNIVERSAL VALUES.

So, “let us celebrate!” as Bob often says.

Yes, let’s celebrate our human family of great diversity with rich heritages; let’s celebrate who we are and what we are with dignity, a sense of purpose, and respect to others; let’s celebrate our dedication to let freedom ring from every corner in the world.

Let’s recognize that “It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.”

One day, we’ll all sing in unison and Total Harmony of Enlightenment:

Thank You God!
~Every Race

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

The Declaration of Independence

It is raining hard again. I don’t remember another Texas October with this much rain. This non-stop rain has completely messed up my routine. I couldn’t focus on what I am supposedly of doing.

I decide to give up. Maybe it is time to do something else. Some of my friends have been suggesting that I should start a blog. I thought that was an intriguing idea. But, for a long while, I did not know where to start, and was not sure whether I have the self-discipline to keep it going.

Well, maybe, I am thinking, the rain could provide enough “juice” to get it off the ground.

I am going to give it a try, starting with some thoughts I wanted to share for quite some time now.

I am a first generation immigrant. I consider myself as someone willingly taking the steps of going through the “naturalization” process, a process that transcends from living in fear to the recognition of the inherent spirit of liberty. Of course, I am still a work-in-progress. For many years, I kept re-visiting the speech given by Judge Learned Hand, on May 21, 1944 in the “I Am an American Day” ceremony. The speech has become my instant reference on executing my duty as a citizen.

We have gathered here to affirm a faith, a faith in a common purpose, a common conviction, a common devotion. Some of us have chosen America as the land of our adoption; the rest have come from those who did the same. For this reason we have some right to consider ourselves a picked group, a group of those who had the courage to break from the past and brave the dangers and the loneliness of a strange land.

What was the object that nerved us, or those who went before us, to this choice? We sought liberty; freedom from oppression, freedom from want, freedom to be ourselves. This we then sought; this we now believe that we are by way of winning.

What do we mean when we say that first of all we seek liberty? I often wonder whether we do not rest our hopes too much upon constitutions, upon laws and upon courts. These are false hopes; believe me, these are false hopes. Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can even do much to help it. While it lies there it needs no constitution, no law, no court to save it.

And what is this liberty which must lie in the hearts of men and women? It is not the ruthless, the unbridled will; it is not freedom to do as one likes. That is the denial of liberty, and leads straight to its overthrow. A society in which men recognize no check upon their freedom soon becomes a society where freedom is the possession of only a savage few; as we have learned to our sorrow.

What then is the spirit of liberty? I cannot define it; I can only tell you my own faith. The spirit of liberty is the spirit which is not too sure that it is right; the spirit of liberty is the spirit which seeks to understand the mind of other men and women; the spirit of liberty is the spirit which weighs their interests alongside its own without bias; the spirit of liberty remembers that not even a sparrow falls to earth unheeded; the spirit of liberty is the spirit of Him who, near two thousand years ago, taught mankind that lesson it has never learned but never quite forgotten; that there may be a kingdom where the least shall be heard and considered side by side with the greatest.

And now in that spirit, that spirit of an America which has never been, and which may never be; nay, which never will be except as the conscience and courage of Americans create it; yet in the spirit of that America which lies hidden in some form in the aspirations of us all; in the spirit of that America for which our young men are at this moment fighting and dying; in that spirit of liberty and of America I ask you to rise and with me pledge our faith in the glorious destiny of our beloved country.

I am continuously fascinated by the implementation the Founding Fathers of this great nation engineered in transforming an ideal into a political and social architecture. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how those great minds arrived the same time in the same place, how were they, all with strong personalities and vast wisdom, able to work together in crafting a blueprint that would guild a nation in preserving and protecting the most fundamental rights of mankind for generations to come. I am in complete agreement with the suggestion made by Joseph Costello in his book Consent of the Governed: “One should approach the legacy of the Founding Fathers with a sense of reverence and awe. It is the brightest shining governance star ever created by the mind of man.”

alex and macy

When first came to the United States in 1982 with a background no such rights were respected, busy school work and language barrier did not allow me to fully embrace the significance of the freedom. It took an elongated process of melting. In 1989, a thorough democratic process took place in forming the Independent Federation of Chinese Students and Scholars. I for the first time felt the joy derived from exercising personal rights, and the noble fertile of the democratic procedures. The spirit of individual liberty started soaking in rapidly. Amid this transition, I witnessed the sacrifices people made and are continuously making in all parts of the world in their pursuit of justice and liberty, supplemented myself with the missing lessons on civil rights movements and the extraordinary vision, leadership, and conviction many great leaders ahead of us exhibited, from Frederick Douglass to Abraham Lincoln, from MLK to JFK. As I walk on the path that has been paved for people like myself, I frequently remind myself about the expanded personal and social responsibilities. I treasure the fundamental principles in the constitution that guarantee each and every one the individual rights including freedom of speech.

No, I don’t take any of these rights for granted. Neither do I take them lightly. I sometimes worry how fragile they can be. I am often cautious that we sometimes loose sights of the constitution when we put politics over and above the individual rights. It is my strong conviction that we must constantly remind ourselves that individuals have certain rights that no law may take away, not even with a democratically conducted voting process.

I don’t know a lot about M. Grundler. But it is hard for me to ignore the man for his this famous quote: “It is easy to take liberty for granted when you have never had it taken from you.”

For a long time, it never belonged to me.

It’s high school football season.

I miss high school football season. I mean I miss being part of the high school football season. The only thing I am doing these days is checking how the Centennial Titans are doing weekly. That’s because Alex went to the Frisco Centennial High. 

Titan Band

Alex started high school as a member of both the Titans football team and the Titans band. That was a tough schedule. He pretty much had to make a choice between the two, but did not want to disappoint his friends and coaches in either team. I remember he was struggling for a while to make a decision, and one day coming back from a prolonged practice afternoon with both teams, he was deeply troubled. That was the first time I saw Alex needed help in handling school affairs. We had a little chat. I asked him what he thought was the best thing to do for himself. He said he wanted to focus on the band. I volunteered to go with him to see his football head coach. And we did. The coach was supportive. I could see the sense of relief from Alex. 

It turned out to be the right decision. Alex flourished and excelled in the band. He became a drum major in his senior year. The Titan Band won many regional, state, and national awards. I made sure I was in those competitions as much as I could. I enjoyed every performance.

But the real excitements came from the Friday night football games. The kids were certainly into it. The fans – parents – were even more into it. All the yelling, shouting, cheering made the evening that much fun! Then here came the half time show. That was when I felt even more proud. Sometime, our football team was over powered (this is a very young high school). Then you would hear one of the parents saying: “Our band will beat ya!” It was in those games that I felt the strong family and community bonds. 

I know high school football has over a hundred years of history. But this kind experience was brand new to me. In all my school years, rarely the parents got involved in any extra curricular activities (if there were any those activities). As I sat there with other parents cheering in those games and performances, I could sense how much more the boys and girls enjoyed themselves, because they knew that on top of bringing the best to their school, they always have their loved ones behind them. Win or loose aside, they wanted to do their best to make themselves proud, and to make their folks proud. 

Game Time

I have been following the Cowboys for some time now, and I am also attached to my UW Badgers and Alex’s Longhorns (I admit that I am more attached to the Badgers). But only by going to the high school games could one understand the deep roots of football and the love to the game in this country. 

Go Titans!

Go Badgers!

Go Longhorns!

Go Cowboys?

Never Forget

Today marks the 8th anniversary of 9 11. What happened 8 years ago on this date completely changed the lives of many. As we begin to observe this day, let us not fall into a mere routine action of comfortably relegate to remembrance on a single day each year. We must never forget!

The 9 11 tragedy was a direct attack to the humanities, a direct attack to the freedoms, and  a direct attack to the inalienable rights of to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Such attack could
come in other shapes and forms. We must join force with all the peace lovers across the globe to protect those rights.

Let’s join our spirits in unity and dignity to honor the heroes who lost their lives on that tragic day.

God Bless America!

 

A beautiful poem by Adam Zagajewski
(translated, from the Polish, by Clare Cavanagh – shared by my friend Xiao)

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
And wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
The abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
One of them had a long trip ahead of it,
While salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
You’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
In a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought of the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
And leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
And the gray feather a thrush lost,
And the gentle light that strays and vanishes
And returns.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancell’d woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.

                  ~William Shakespeare

Robbie was someone I would pick up the phone and call if I felt the need to share something, or just have a chat. Robbie would find ways to make himself available. I observed Robbie would do the same for a lot of people. That’s just how he was.

Few weeks before his departure, Robbie met with a small group to start a new law school

Robbie Gowdey, Dr. Bill Bright’s right-hand man in promoting the cause of the Campus Crusade for Christ, devoted his life to his belief in God. He and his colleagues traveled over 150 countries to persuade his mission of furthering the cause of Christ, as Ron Jenson, then President of Campus Crusade’s International School of Theology, recalls:

“Robbie and I joined Bill in traveling the world together including going into China with Bunker and Carolyn Hunt, Jim Irwin, the astronaut, Joe Foss and others VIP’s in the 1980′s. Robbie and I bought identical, custom made Asian-looking white leisure suits (you had to be there) to wear on our bullet train trip from the border of China to what was then called Canton. But, because we all tried to smuggle in Bibles and Jesus Films and were founded out by the authorities, we were punished by being put on a slow, local, dirty, wood benched train. I sat next to a couple of chickens (really, chickens!) in a pen. Robbie and I turned those nice white leisure suits into what looked like coal miner gear. But, we laughed, rejoiced and continued the many year adventure we were on.”

I would call Robbie a true People Connector, as characterized in The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell. Helping others was part of Robbie’s life. It was something he enjoyed of doing, regardless how much help he was actually needing. “Robbie had an unrelenting desire for lifting the hopes and spirits of those around him”, as Andrew elegantly describes his beloved dad. Robbie came to their minds when his friends were seeking advices, directions, or helps, because he was someone they could relate and trust, often times for some, it might have been just a single acquaintance occurred a few years ago.

Robbie and friends

Robbie was going through tremendous wearisomeness, perhaps since early 2006. We sat in our favorite “meeting place” – various Corner Bakery Cafes – many times chatting about life and challenges. Even in those difficult times, Robbie was still actively engaged in helping a few projects aiming to make communities safer and better. I had made up my mind that for whatever Robbie was involved, I would make myself available to facilitate whatever he needed from me.

I still find myself in various Corner Bakery Cafes, alone though most the times. Occasionally, I reach the phone and start dialing…